Zootopia: Roar in the Streets
by SamuelInsolitus
Summary: It's been four years since Nick Wilde perished in an arson attack. Judy Hopps has transferred to the ZPD detective division, spending her days skulking around the darker side of Zootopia, chasing tiny leads, and hating the world she once strived to make better. But when mammals start turning up dead, and a Night Howler dirty bomb goes off, Judy must confront her problems head on.
1. Chapter 1

Zootopia: Roar in the Streets

CHAPTER ONE

The carrots on the table had begun to go a darker shade of orange—a strong smell reeked from them as she watched flies buzz around the bowl; her arms folded under each other, giving her the only incentive to keep looking up. Through the torn curtains, sunlight tried to sneak in, heighten the mood, brighten the place up, but all it managed to do was illuminate the surrounding mess.

In front of her was a picture she'd printed two years ago for their anniversary; all coated in dust. It was of Nick, beaming proudly at his graduation from the police academy. His trademark smile looked back at her, as if he was always aware of the path he was going down, even at the end. Her nose twitched as she put her paw on it, leaving a clean print over his face, allowing sunlight to shimmer across it. Four years of dust had suddenly disappeared, just like him, she thought. She dropped the picture on the desk. Lowered her head down, and let the tears slide down her fur and onto the floor as squeaks and sobs escaped from her.

 **FOUR YEARS AGO**

The apartment complex was spewing flames. It escaped windows, craving oxygen and spewing smoke that could be seen from the edges of Savanna Central. Cruisers were scattered like a kid was throwing them about. Three fire-trucks had made their way down to the burning wreck while Judy commanded the officers on site to cordon off the area. She could see further down at the other end of the street, barking orders into a microphone was Nick. His trademark aviators glinting in the midday sun as he yelled: "I want this street airtight like an armadillo's asshole!" She couldn't help but smile as she watched him work, but the job took priority.

They were containing the situation, and whenever they showed up, whatever chaos ensued, they'd always fix it; _together._ The pungent stench of smoke filled her nostrils as she watched a rhinoceros aim for the upper windows with the fire hose; the walls stained with soot that had spread in the time it took the ZFD and ZPD to respond. How many had perished? Who had started the fire in the first place and why? This has been the fifth one in three weeks, and there never seemed to be an explanation besides foul-play. Nobody took credit, and nobody ever came forward.

Judy took a second to examine the crowd near Nick's side of the street, seeing if anybody was enjoying the view a little too much—of course every face was filled with shock. Tears were evident, while others wailed. Some people were crying because they'd lost clothes, memorable things of their lives, and some, she thought, had lost loved ones. There was a tinge of responsibility on her shoulders. It was their job to protect, but like always they were missing out before it had happened, becoming glorified cleaners.

"Help!"

A single word swimming in an ocean of fire called out. Her eyes pricked up and Nick noticed, dropping his megaphone and sprinting to her side.

"Carrots?"

"Someone's alive inside—I heard it," she yelled, sprinting towards the front door that bellowed smoke. She felt a hand on both her ears, pulling her up.

"I'll go—I can smell them out better."

She looked at him but there wasn't enough time. Not enough minutes in the day to tell him she loved him with all of her bunny heart. He plopped her onto her feet, the smoky smell growing between them. Her paws wrapped around his hands and with bright, purple-specked eyes she warned him: "Don't make me come in after you, you dumb fox."

He walked away up the steps and looked back with a shrug. "I'm not dumb enough for that," he said before moving into the smoke. She imagined it had taken him, absorbing him into the mess that it was like a monster, and never letting him go. There were always times like this. Ones where she'd worry if either of them would go home that day, but this wasn't similar. He'd be fine. Of course he would, she thought as she stepped back but kept her eyes rooted on the door.

She waited, and waited. Her foot tapped onto the concrete so hard that Lieutenant Francine could hear it from the other side of her cruiser. "Hopps," she bellowed. "He's gonna be fine, don't you worry."

Those were the last words she remembered as the complex erupted. Flames screamed out as the walls burst in a fiery blaze. The bottom half of the building let out hisses and sprayed debris onto the street until there was a final crash, and the remnants of windows and doorways were eviscerated by a second, grave explosion that knocked back the firemen so close. Judy ran for the door that was now filled with pieces of the former ceiling above it. A hand wrapped around her. She tried to wriggle free as the building fell apart in front of her. With every drop of debris, she felt her own life was doing the same.

"Let me go! Nick's in there. _Let me go, damn it! Don't you under—"_

She let out screams; wailing to the choir of sirens which filled the air, playing a deathly tune to the dead of the hour. Judy watched on until finally Francine moved her away from the wreck towards her huge police cruiser. "There's nothin' we can do!" She heard her yelled as she plopped Judy in the passenger side of the cruiser. No words were getting through. She thrashed and reached for the other side of the door. Francine grabbed her and forced her to sit still with ease. "I'm not lettin' us lose another cop—you got that? Hopps?"

She came back to reality; pinpricks of tears built in her eyes. "I know," she said, defeated.

Her eyes scanned the remains of the building, willing for him to appear like he always did. _He must have got out._ It was the only thought in her head for two hours, until finally the rhinoceros from before told her that they'd done a sweep of the wreckage. Nobody would have made it out—there was some kind of device, a bomb that must have gone off. She didn't care. The only answer she wanted, she'd got.

Judy watched as the fired died. The once recognizable building was nothing more than rubble. Her feet padded on the floor as walked back to her cruiser numbly, got in, and skidded off into the city with her paws clenched to the wheel. The lump in her throat felt like a boulder and the tears that she thought would never stop had only just begun. She had to get out of there, and go anywhere. It wasn't happening, it couldn't have been. Nick Wilde wasn't dead.


	2. Chapter 2: Hopps Bar Time Roarke Kills

Four years. A lot had changed in that time. Bogo was still running the ZPD, and crime was still at a manageable level, she assumed. It didn't matter much anymore—why would it? She was sat down at the bar called Ruff, a dive bar that stunk of wet dog, and was filled with foxes, thieves, and butch predators. Rhinos played pool down the other end, barely visible through the smoke. She sat nursing her fourth beer with hunched-up shoulders and listened to the distant rhythm of an old song she couldn't remember the name of. The fox at the bar sporting a black vest and crooked teeth grabbed the empty bottle near her. "Another, hops for Hopps?"

"Yes," she replied with no energy to look at him.

The fox slid the beer over to her. Judy was preoccupied, staring at the stranger in the mirror. Between the stacked spirits, she could see herself; the leather jacket, and red vest. Resting under her arm was the custom-built pistol; a black Beretta. It came with the job, now that she was under the detective division. She'd put in a transfer three weeks after Nick's death, and things had changed rapidly in the first year. Now the gun was just as much a part of her as the badge, and she didn't dislike that as much as she should have, she thought.

While before she felt worried, but always wanting to make the world a better place, now she didn't care so much. It wasn't that she wasn't trying to make things better, it just felt like a world without Nick wasn't one that could be changed in a positive way anyway. As she chugged back on the beer, feeling the coolness of it slide down her neck the door behind her opened with a forceful kick. A familiar crème coloured fox stepped in and looked over to Judy who hadn't bothered to even look back. "Finnick," she said with a little slur.

"Ju'," he replied as he dragged a stool over close to her.

He fumbled the climb onto it; his foot slipping off the top. When he got comfortable there was already a drink waiting for him. He nodded to the fox who gave him a sly smile and a wink before walking off to serve a rowdy group of wolves. He looked Judy over; her eyelids were as droopy as her ears, and she looked exhausted. Her fur was matted and unclean and she didn't smell any better.

"How are things?" she croaked.

"You know I only see you once a year—every anniversary you wanna drink yourself into a mess. D'you even remember the last thing we spoke about, Fluff?"

"I think it was about the...I don't know. I can't remember, but that's okay," she slurred. She looked at herself in the mirror again. "I'm just sad. It's the hardest time of the year and the drink is a good way to numb it a little. You don't miss him?"

Finnick looked down and let out a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "I do, but I came here to tell you that I can't do this no more wichu. I'mma miss him every day just like you do, but four years of comin' here and seein' you like this is enough for me. You ain't that dedicated, hustlin' bunny I knew. _You changed for the bad._ "

There wasn't anything for her to shoot back with. Finnick was right, she was not the same. The bubbly bunny had been chewed up and spit out by Zootopia. As she looked in his eyes, she realized the letdown in them would be no different if Nick was sat in front of her. Tears built up in her but she swallowed them back down with the beer. "You're right, Fin'. You are right. I'm not the same, and that's the world we have to live in now. Because he isn't coming back."

"Why don't you go home, bunny?" said Fin, his voice full of sincerity. "Go recharge."

"Go back to carrots and fields? No, I can't do that anymore. This is all I have left to remind me of the past."

Her ears drooped. She felt the soft paw on her hand and turned to Finnick, wrapping her arms around him, enveloping him fully. "I miss him," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I don't know how to get past this." It came out as a whisper. Finnick stroked her back gently and they felt eyes upon them from everywhere in the bar. Judy didn't care. It felt nice to open herself up a little a times, and she didn't have anybody close to Nick besides him anyway. She allowed herself the one day of the year to cry, to feel sad, and then it would be business as normal tomorrow.

Roarke watched the pig limp down the alleyway; a smile across his face as smoke invaded his eyes from the cigarette in his mouth. The van he was leaning on rocked back and forth with the sound of muffled roars and screeches. Not much longer now, he thought. Give the porky a few more minutes of fear to really get the senses going. The two uniformed wolves on either side of him were prepping their tranquilizer guns—preparing for the worst, but it wouldn't matter. They'd run straight for the fat mistake ahead. They'd smell that bastard before anything else.

Peter had been tenderized. His left leg felt like it had been snapped. Crazy tiger—he'd harassed him for days! Now they'd got him on the ropes and he was screaming like crazy for somebody, anybody to help him. Why were they doing this to him? What did he ever do to anybody. The tiger had punched him until he was half-dead, and even now he didn't know what was keeping him going. _Please don't let me die here in this alleyway._ He thought of his litter of piglets. Janey couldn't look after them all on her own and run the store.

He had to find a way out into the street, to where the stench of stale food and the taste of copper in his mouth wouldn't feel so bad. Up the alleyway he could hear _something_. Roarke's voice cut through the sounds of the city around him. Peter turned back only to see the doors of a van burst open. What escaped was nothing more than blurred colours of orange, white, and black as they rushed towards him. He turned back with a gasp, trying to run as fast as his good leg could carry him. He heard growls and roars and then they were upon him. Teeth sunk into his face, breaking the skin and spraying blood across the floor. _Oh God, Janey, I love you._ The colours tore at his arms and legs, ripping them from their sockets. He could only feel pain all over until it was too much and darkness washed over him like an ocean. _I want to see my children._

Roarke watched from the side of the van. The body of Peter was quickly becoming nothing more than pork chops. He grinned at the thought and turned to the two wolves who were keeping aim on the group of foxes. The one in orange let out a roar as it sunk its teeth deep into what he assumed was Peter's neck. Crimson stained its muzzle as it gulped down chunks of pig.

When the message was clear, he nodded to his two employees. "Tag em, bag em, get em back in the van." The two wolves silently approached the group with their guns, aiming them upon the three foxes. The white one went down fast, followed by a yelp and thud from the black one. The orange one was too quick. It slid to the left of the corpse and ran across a rusted chain-link fence separating dumpsters. It scraped across it with a yelp, and then jumped for the top. The wolves fired again, this time hitting the target. It fell to the floor with a thud, and didn't move again as they began pulling it back to the van.

Roarke watched in silence from his own car; a phone next to his ear as he stared at them. The orange one was a liability, but he was doing the best work out of every single one he'd used. He'd feed him extra for it, he thought. The person on the other end of the line picked up. "What?"

"You've got your free building now. Peter won't be causing you any more legal issues."

Silence. He listened, waiting for an answer. "Very good. I'll send them around tomorrow to discuss the papers with his wife."

"Only two left before you do your part with us," said Roarke, goading him.

"I know. I know."

He hung up and smiled again. It wouldn't always be like this. He was getting tired of offing mistakes in such a way. As he drove through Savanna, lamenting on what could be done for the future, he could only smile and light another cigarette. Soon, he thought. Soon there'd be change.


End file.
